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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624464">Feathers White as Snow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyofblue_seaofgreen/pseuds/skyofblue_seaofgreen'>skyofblue_seaofgreen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ghost John [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas edition baby, Fluff, Here comes more Ghost John, M/M, McLennon ooh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:47:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyofblue_seaofgreen/pseuds/skyofblue_seaofgreen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While looking for a Christmas gift for Paul, John comes across a white dove. Little does he know the feathers she leaves behind have a special meaning this year...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ghost John [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Feathers White as Snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a calm Christmas morning in Scotland. Pale frost was spreading among the dark green leaves on the trees, and it seemed like a breath of fresh air was settled across High Park. John moved through the evergreen trees, watching a few red birds gather pine cones. But he wasn’t looking for pinecones; he was looking for something much more specific.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every little thing seemed to catch his eye, something that would be suitable as a gift, but he felt like all of them were too...rugged. He sighed, staring up at the pastel morning sky and wondering if he could ever find a good present for Paul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The person in question was still fast-asleep with his wife in his little collage far below. He hadn’t been awoken yet, thankfully, so John still had time. He hadn’t gotten Paul a present this year, because...well, obviously, he was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghost.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was dead. He couldn’t just walk into a store and go “Hello. Can you find me a suitable gift for my friend?” Because of course, you know what would happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So his only resort was to look for something </span>
  <em>
    <span>outside,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which he didn’t really want to do. Paul meant so, so much to him, and all John had to offer was something from the woods?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it would be enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as a fox prowled through the bushes, its dark red pelt standing out against the deep greens of the forest. John stayed still just by instinct, even though he was about 80% sure the fox would never see him. He watched as the majestic animal skittered over a log, its yellow eyes narrowed in pursuit of something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, now John was curious. He followed the fox side-by-side as it padded through the undergrowth, its tail stiff. It was hunting! “Wow,” John murmured as he spotted a white dove pulling a worm out of the ground. It saddened him, though. A beautiful creature was about to be killed. He didn’t want to see the dove die, not really. Couldn’t the fox stop and turn around? What if that dove had chicks in its nest?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John was suddenly overtaken by compassion for the bird he had only just laid his eyes on, and he knew he had to do something. He spotted a fallen branch not far from the fox, and quickly as he could, John went over and stepped on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made a terrific slapping noise, and John was pleased to see the fox’s head draw up in fear. It let out a yelp and bolted off, tail high in the air as its brown paws sprayed up snow. Relieved, John went over to the dove. Its brilliant feathers were ruffled in worry, and it was making quiet noises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, there, you’re all right now,” John said softly, running his ghostly hands over the bird’s head. Surprisingly, it didn’t fly off and just stayed there. “That fox won’t kill you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprisingly, John watched the dove’s head draw up, its little eyes meeting his. It cooed once, and then flitted its wings. John watched, wonder-struck, as it left a trail of white feathers floating onto the snow-covered ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over to scoop them up, finding a whopping three pristine feathers. These would be the perfect gift for Paul! They weren’t covered in dirt and had no imperfections. He held them gently in his hands and began to go back to the house, hoping and praying Paul would like his present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He definitely would. Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When John slid through the back door, the house was alive with voices. Linda was serving plump, warm cinnamon rolls for the children, and Paul stood behind her with a mug between his hands. Thankfully, John had removed himself from sight, so Paul couldn’t see him placing the feathers under the tree. He laid them all out on top of each other in an exact array. They were perfect. Just like Paul was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Presents!” James squealed after their meal had been finished. He slid off his oversized chair and totaled over to the Christmas tree, eyes alight with excitement. Stella and Mary followed, equally ecstatic. Linda just chuckled as she followed them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John floated over Paul’s shoulder, close to giddy like the McCartney children. He hoped and he prayed Paul would know the feathers were for him and were his Christmas gift, and he sat waiting anxiously for every last gift to be opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the tree was bare except for stray wrapping paper and the feathers. John was getting antsy now, Paul hadn’t even acknowledged them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Paul stood up. “That was quite fun. Thank you, everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linda’s eyes shone in the reflection of the tree’s lights. “What do you say, kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” chorused the three of them, and they scrambled off with quick hugs to go marvel over their Christmas presents. John watched in disappointment as the light was flicked off and the feathers were left untouched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared down at them. They seemed like they were glowing, even in the dark. He guessed Paul didn’t notice, or didn’t care about them. Sighing, he folded his arms over the armrest of the couch and put his head on top of them. “I guess they weren’t special enough for him,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the light turned back on, but John didn’t look up. He knew it was probably just Linda coming to clean up or Stella having forgotten one of her presents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John? Are you in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced up to see Paul looking around, puzzled. John couldn’t bring himself into view faster. “Yeah,” he said, still hopeful Paul had come in for his gift. “I’m right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul smiled. “I knew you were with us!” he said. “I got something for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John watched as Paul picked up a small red box from behind the tree and sat beside him on the couch. Confused and a bit excited, John watched Paul carefully undo the ribbon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside was a small ornament, covered in light blue with a darker bow attached. John watched, mesmerized, as Paul spun it around to reveal three white feathers painted across the sides. The words </span>
  <em>
    <span>asleep, my love?</span>
  </em>
  <span> were printed above them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John knew he must have looked rather foolish with his jaw hanging open, but he stared up at Paul, a beam unfolding across his face. “I...I love it!” he said, staring at the ornament with pure childlike joy. “It’s perfect!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he remembered his own gift. He glanced back at the three feathers across the carpet, and then back to Paul. “B-but...how did you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul tilted his head. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John moved over to the feathers and presented them to Paul. “I found these this morning while I was looking for a present,” he said quietly. “A dove flew off and they fell off of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” Paul’s eyes grew wide. “The same thing happened to me! A dove landed on our windowsill and gave me three white feathers. That’s why I painted this ornament.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shared a moment of complete silence. John knew it must have meant something. This didn’t just happen by chance. “I guess that means we’re meant to be together,” John said with a shrug. “If we got the same message.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded. “It has to be!” He then stood up, John following him over to the tree. In the very center of the branches there was a bare spot, and Paul hung it up on the longest branch. It seemed to shine and spin in the light. “There we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s meant to be there,” John said firmly, and turned back to Paul. “Just like us.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! 🍋</p></blockquote></div></div>
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